


Allies

by cordeliadelayne



Series: Allies [1]
Category: Primeval
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Getting to Know Each Other, Job interview of sorts, Making Friends, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 08:47:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6650950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cordeliadelayne/pseuds/cordeliadelayne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stephen meets the Cutter's for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Allies

**Author's Note:**

> Written for primeval_denial's pre-series challenge and originally posted to Livejournal in 2008.

Stephen Hart sank low into his seat at the back of the lecture hall and closed his eyes. Breathing deeply he let the Professor’s voice wash over him; Roger had been right, Cutter _was_ good. Stephen focused on the rhythm of his speech rather than the list of required reading, the aims of the course and the briefest of introductions to evolutionary theory. The man’s enthusiasm was infectious and Stephen found himself smiling along as Cutter enthused about the beauty and power of the dinosaurs. He definitely owed Roger a drink.

Time was up far too soon and Stephen looked around the packed hall to see how well the first lecture of the new term had been received. Moderately well by the looks of things. There was the usual gaggle of geekier students already pestering the Professor with theories, but most were heading out the door. Except for one student quietly snoring in the corner. Clearly Cutter’s lecturing style didn’t suit everybody’s tastes.

Stephen watched as a smartly dressed woman with long brown hair walked into the room, glanced around and then zoned in on the sleeping student. She leaned forward and whispered something in the boy’s ear. He shot up immediately and appeared to be babbling excuses as he gathered his belongings, but she had already moved on, long strides bringing her quickly to Cutter’s side.

Stephen decided it was time he made his move too and slowly ambled down the steps.

“Professor Cutter?” Stephen asked, shaking the hand that was absently presented to him. “Stephen Hart.” No recognition. “Dr Carmack emailed you.” Still nothing. “About the assistant’s post?”

“He’s come to put your office in order,” the woman said. Stephen spared her a quick glance. She was certainly attractive, but all hard lines and something bubbling under the surface he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“Dr Carmack said you were on the lookout for a laboratory assistant. I have my CV…”

“Roger Carmack?” Cutter interrupted.

“That’s right,” Stephen replied, suddenly unsure whether Roger was as close a friend to Cutter as he’d indicated.

“What did you think of his last book?” the woman asked. Cutter nodded; he’d clearly been about to ask the same thing.

“Well…” Stephen hesitated. Truth be told he’d found it very hard to read and had spotted several inconsistencies in the first chapter alone. Roger's work in the field was exemplary but he tended to get very carried away when he was writing up his notes, favouring speculation over fact.

Something of his feelings must have shown on his face because Cutter was already nodding in agreement before Stephen had a chance to articulate his thoughts.

“Good man, but terrible writer,” Cutter grinned. “Pleased to meet you. This is Helen, my wife.”

 _Of course,_ Stephen thought as his hand was squeezed in Helen’s firm grip. The author’s photo on his copy of her first book really didn’t do her justice.

“Pleased to meet you,” Helen said, eyes coolly assessing him. He couldn’t help feeling that he’d been found wanting, somehow.

But she wasn’t important. It was Cutter who he’d come to see. So after a polite smile in Helen’s direction Stephen turned his attention back to him.

“The position is still vacant then?” He mentally crossed his fingers. If nothing else he needed the money; his South American trip wasn’t going to pay itself off.

“Well, there never really was a position,” Cutter explained, heaping his books into a pile and unplugging the projector.

Stephen sighed. Another one of Roger’s “jokes” then.

“But you do _need_ an assistant,” Helen chimed in, for which Stephen was inordinately grateful. Perhaps with her on his side all was still not lost. Cutter seemed to be considering it, at least.

“Have you any experience in the field?”

“I just spent six months leading an expedition with the Carmack Foundation, tracking big cats in Peru.”

Even Helen looked impressed at that.

Stephen waited patiently for the next question; he didn’t like to bring up the Olympics unless he really had to.

“What’s your favourite dinosaur?” Cutter surprised him by asking. He thought quickly; too populist and he’d seem unimaginative, too obscure and he’d look like he was sucking up.

“I’ve always been partial to a _Protoceratops_ myself,” Stephen replied.

“Interesting choice,” Cutter said. “Welcome aboard. Come on and I’ll show you my office.” Stephen found himself breathing much easier; this day was certainly looking up. “I’ll see you at home, later?” Cutter asked Helen, who was already heading away from them.

“Maybe,” she replied, before disappearing into the corridor.

Cutter sighed but said nothing and Stephen chose to studiously ignore the change in atmosphere.

“Do you need a hand with these?” Stephen asked, indicating the pile of books. For a simple introductory lecture Cutter sure had brought a lot of equipment with him.

“Please. I was on my way to my office with my research when a student reminded me I was supposed to be in here. Follow me.”

Stephen smiled to himself. The first thing he was going to do was set up a proper schedule. Or maybe the second thing he amended as he followed Cutter into his office. Since the other man seemed perfectly at ease, dropping the projector on to a pile of already teetering books and stepping over some chipped femurs on the floor, Stephen could only assume that this was how the office was supposed to look and it hadn’t, in fact, been broken into.

“Where do you want these?” Stephen asked. Cutter looked up from where he was searching through a filing cabinet.

“Oh, anywhere’s fine…Ah ha!” He triumphantly pulled out an expensive looking bottle of whisky – half full. “To celebrate”.

Stephen smiled and set the books down on the only clear part of the floor he could find. “Sounds good to me.”

Cutter poured out the drinks and waited for Stephen to make a neat pile of student essays from the scrunched up specimens he’d moved from the only spare chair before handing him a glass.

“How do you ever find anything?” Stephen asked, sitting down in the now debris free chair. He took a small sip of whisky and savoured the rich taste.

“Oh, well,” Cutter rubbed the back of his neck absently as he looked around. “I don’t,” he confessed sheepishly.

Stephen found himself laughing despite himself and was glad when Cutter joined in. “I guess that’s my first job then.”

“I’m afraid it might be something of an uphill battle,” Cutter replied. “And I don’t want you stuck in the office too much. There are a couple of digs I’m trying to arrange funding for, which I could use your help with organising. And I’m going to need cover for my classes – office hours are Monday 9-10 and Thursday 12-1, though everyone always seems to come on the Thursday.”

Stephen grinned. He couldn’t imagine why that would be.

“I’ve just started compiling research for my next journal article – `Popular Misconceptions of the Jurassic era’. Not my title,” he sneered in disgust. “But the Dean said if it gets published he’ll fund one of the digs. It’ll be your job to look over my notes and compile data if necessary, maybe even write them up – with credit of course.”

Stephen nodded. This job was sounding much better than he’d expected – maybe he wouldn’t just be a hired skivvy after all.

“Maybe I should have a quick look at your CV?”

“Of course,” Stephen replied. He took it and another sheet of paper from his backpack and handed the first over.

Cutter gave it a cursory glance, intrigued by what he saw. He’d known Roger wouldn’t have sent him anyone less than brilliant.

“You had an assistant post with Roger during the Peru trip. Why did you leave?”

“He traded me in for a blonder model.”

“That sounds like Roger,” Cutter chuckled. “This looks fine. I suppose I’ll need to sign something…”

Stephen handed over the second piece of paper he’d retrieved from his bag. “I’ve filled in my details, all you need to do is sign and date it.”

Cutter barely glanced at it before signing. He definitely owed Roger a drink. He started to hand it back when the blank space at the top caught his eye. “No fixed address?”

Stephen shrugged. “I put all my things in storage while we were away, and I haven’t had chance to find anywhere yet.”

“Why don’t you stay with me?”

Stephen swallowed the last of his drink and put the glass on top of a month old newspaper. “Well, I don’t want to impose…”

“Nonsense. Just till you get yourself sorted…I could do with the company.”

“Won’t your wife mind?”

“She’s heavily in research mode for her next book, she’s hardly there at the moment. Besides, I’d like the chance to cook for someone other than me for a change!”

Stephen still hesitated. He was not very good at sharing his space, preferring somewhere quiet he could retreat with his own thoughts. But if anything it seemed like he’d be doing Cutter a favour and it would only be for a little while – he already had a list of flats he wanted to check out. And Helen seemed nice enough.

“Okay, thank you. That would be great.”

“Excellent.” Cutter stood up and looked out the window. Whatever he saw obviously set him on edge as his shoulders hunched and he started to scowl. “Why don’t we call it a day and I get you settled at home?”

“Don’t you have classes this afternoon?” Stephen asked, his eyes settling on the class schedule taped to the back of the computer monitor, exactly where Cutter was least likely to actually see it.

“Nothing important,” Cutter replied dismissively. He hurried around the desk and took the stairs two at a time. “Come on then.”

Stephen stood up and chanced a quick glance out the window. The Dean, who he’d met once at a soiree Roger had dragged him to, was striding purposefully up the pathway. _So that explained it._

“Come _on_ , Stephen,” Cutter called from the doorway and Stephen hastened to obey. He had a feeling he was going to spend a lot of his time following Cutter into the unknown.

He couldn’t think of anything more perfect than that.


End file.
